


punk pastel

by slythos



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Bullying, But it gets resolved don't worry, Fluff, M/M, What Would We Do Without Qian Kun, based on a tumblr prompt abt wardrobe change btwn the pairing lol, depictions of violence, idk how to say this but yeah, punk look and pastel look, should be a tag on its own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23648290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slythos/pseuds/slythos
Summary: Two of his classmates, one of them wearing a lion's mane and the other a hyena head, coo at Jisung as they go. Jisung laughs along sarcastically for a second before dropping it. “No,youlook adorable,” He mutters under his breath.“Don’t mind them you look great.” Chenle bumps his shoulder, grinning and eyes disappearing. He leans closer to Jisung, voice breathy against his ear. “Look at you! My cotton candy boy.”Now, that's a compliment.
Relationships: Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 15
Kudos: 221





	punk pastel

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhhh this was in my wip folder for a long time and it was?? 98% done and i didn't?? just finish it off?? i can nvr forgive myself for not posting this sooner at the same time it's good i have this to post. heh. 
> 
> this is mainly just a self-indulgent, feel-good chenji fic since... Soft Bois I Love The Most in the World. anyways, way overdue, this one is. enjoy! <3

> **he who punched**

There are lots of things Jisung can wager Chenle has a talent for.

Besides the obvious singing and dancing—which are the two specifics he’s notably known for—there are the less obvious like make-up (he admitted learning casually on YouTube for vague reasons), basketball (Stephen Curry is his all-time favorite idol) and gardening (the kid can grow some mean orchids). After all, they’re some of the conventional ones any normal person is likely to be knowledgeable of at some level and are therefore not beyond him. But even after years of friendship, he admits that Chenle is easy to underestimate in his pastel shirts, more famous beige coats and crescent eye smiles.

The first big mistake anyone can make. 

You’d think Jisung would know better after being around Chenle since the beginning of high school. It turns out you really can’t judge anyone precisely by their taste of fashion or by how fragile or tough they look on the outside. Especially not those who prefer the soft pastel variety. In this case, Jisung finds out the hard way that Chenle may or may not have a skill set that includes sweeping him off his feet in more ways than one.

What completely takes him by surprise that morning, at the parking lot with the assholes spitting out their unoriginal threats, is the fact that Chenle punched his bully without a hint of hesitation.

It happens so fast. One moment Jisung is pressed against the wall, the next second he feels pressure lift off his airways where Hoojung had just been pressing and sees the bully face-planted on the ground, spewing out drops of blood on the parking lot ground beneath him. 

Jisung’s throbbing jaw drops. He did _not_ see that coming.

Neither did Hoojung apparently, who peers up at his assailant looking too astounded to utter anything other than a pitiful shocked groan from the back of his throat.

“It doesn’t look like it but there’s more where that came from,” Chenle says with a pink opening and closing fist. Jisung feels like he’s looking at a whole new different person despite the familiar demeanor brought upon his pink pastel shirt. The stains of a faint trail of blood across it bring out fresh conviction in his eyes as the most dangerous person in the immediate area. “Aren’t you a transfer student?”

“D-Did you just punch me?!” Hoojung demands after a few beats of stunned silence, still clutching his jaw and squirming pathetically on the dirt. Blood trickles down his nose but Jisung is willing to bet he’s too befuddled from the fact that he just got punched by this soft-looking boy in decorated pastel shirt to realize it.

Chenle frowns. “You didn’t feel it enough?”

Jisung lets out a wheeze that is caught between pain and amusement and Hoojung sputters out gibberish.

“Y-You can’t do that?!” Hoojung eyes his posse desperately at the side, who instinctively inches away when Chenle looks over to them, tilting his head in question. (Which is hilarious, by the way, going by the looks of their faces.)

“I think I just did.” Chenle sighs. Jisung catches small blotches of red along his knuckles and feels his jaw throb in a steady rhythm. “Just get lost and don’t make this harder for you.”

The two others begin to launch forward in the attempt to help Hoojung up but he hisses at them before they get the chance and swats their hands away as if they burn his skin in contact. He manages to get to his feet, albeit wobbling dangerously. Shame. Jisung would’ve paid any sum of money just to see him land face first in the dirt again.

“Y-You’ll pay for this,” Hoojung grits out hotly, pointing at Chenle.

“Yeah, I heard that one before.” Chenle fake-pounces, making Hoojung shriek before scuttling away with his two buddies at his tail.

“You better run!” Chenle calls after them. “Bunch of chickens.”

It takes a few minutes before it sinks into Jisung completely, the fact that Big Bad Hoojung who’s been pestering him since the beginning of the year just ran away for his life because of... Small, Soft Chenle.

Who would’ve thought?

Jisung laughs weakly and coughs up, looking up at his unexpected hero who’s still scowling after the bullies. The sight releases some of the tension off his shoulders and for the first time that day, he can breathe without his chest constricting. Though the pain on his neck persists in a dulled fashion, it’s not prominent enough to inter the flush of relief flooding his system.

“That’s an insult to the innocent chicken race,” Jisung grins, flinching when the effort alone hurts like a needle being pierced straight through his temple.

Chenle looks down at him and effectively makes him feel silly looking up with the noon sun peering over his shoulder as a scene ripped out of a superhero comic where the hero reaches out to the archetypal damsel-in-distress and asks them if he’s alright...

Chenle ruins the mental image by clicking his tongue, which is not very superhero-y of him. “You look terrible.”

“Thank you.” Jisung chuckles through the pain and crushed comic book fantasies. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

The older rolls his eyes and holds out his hand. “Can you stand?”

“I guess,” Jisung responds, pointing at his outstretched legs. “I still have them, at least.”

“That’s good, Jisung.”

“I can’t believe you just did that.” Jisung breathes, clutching his bruised stomach as he struggles to get up. “I didn’t know you can punch, Bruce Lee.”

Chenle grabs his arm and slings it around his shoulders, letting his little comment slide. “Believe it, it’s easier.” When his eyes land on Jisung’s swollen cheek, his expression dims completely with a hint of frustration lacing his features. “That looks bad up close.”

Jisung turns the other way. “Are you secretly an underground boxing champion and you didn’t tell me?”

Chenle gives him an unimpressed look.

“What?”

“We’re going to put ice on those bruises.”

“Yikes. Is that a date?”

Chenle gives him another unimpressed look and practically drags him to the direction of the nurse’s station. He grimaces, despite himself. Nurse Kim is not gonna be happy seeing him with fresh new bruises.

“Kun wouldn’t be pleased when he hears about this, though.” Chenle looks down at his shirt as they lumber along and groans. “Wow. There’s blood on my favorite shirt. How do you wash these things off?”

Jisung laughs despite his pulsating jaw and stomach, gripping Chenle’s shoulder. At least, he still has his priorities straight in times like this. Times like when you just fought off your best friend’s bully and now you’re smuggling him across campus to get ice on his bruises, and now he’s about to get in trouble with his guardian because of it. The laugh is short-lived, clipped and tensed and Jisung feels Chenle’s soothing hand pat lightly against his back, _oh dammit._

“Bruce Lee usually never worries about laundry.” Jisung tries.

“Yeah, usually. But I bet even superheroes and black belts do laundry.” Chenle’s soft smile is a difficult one to catch given their side-by-side position but it’s unmistakable.

“Let’s skip the afternoon sessions.”

“Oh, Kun _really_ wouldn’t be pleased.”

“Yeah.” Chenle squeaks with a fake smile on his lips. “I’m _so_ screwed.”

> **he who wouldn’t.**

“ _You are grounded, Le._ And don’t question how I can do that. I have your parents’ permission to ground you for what you’ve done.” Kun pinches the bridge of his nose and in a much softer, more stressed out voice he says, “You broke his nose.”

Renjun snorts from the shotgun seat, sharing a look of glee and a hint of something like pride with Chenle through the rearview mirror. Chenle retracts his grin when Kun’s eyes shift on him through it.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

Chenle tugs the hem of his shirt. “Do we have color-safe bleach to wash this off? This is my favorite shirt though.”

“ _Hey.”_

Chenle scoffs. “Oh, he deserved it for being an asshole.”

For a split second, Kun glances at Jisung through the mirror before he turns his attention on the road again. It’s the same look Kun has been sneaking at him back in the Discipline Office, when he thought he wouldn’t notice, pouring silently over him and frowning at the leather jacket specifically. Jisung is aware of what that look denotes exactly, having seen the same sticky look from grownups along the sidewalk or at the park whenever he parades in his usual and preferred getup of black leather and boots. It’s scribbled all over their faces, the hilarious _Danger!_ and _troublemaker_ _!_ sign at the sight of him as if he’s a manifestation of a disaster waiting to happen the moment you take your eyes off it.

Personally, Jisung wouldn’t fault them on the collective assessment. Grownups tend to avoid and even go as far as detest things beyond their comprehension. It’s a common trait among the adult population around him.

Unfortunately for them, Jisung liked the sound of being “beyond someone’s comprehension”, of being treated as a “force to be reckoned with” just by how he appears on the exterior. It gives him a sort of power over them, especially those who are relatively easy to alarm. It’s his greatest asset, Donghyuck, Jaemin’s boyfriend likes to point out with a devious grin Jisung swears he often sees on his face.

_“Rise above power, young padawan,” Donghyuck likes to say to him with the same hint of mischief shining in his eyes. “Rise above power and show ‘em who’s the real bitch—”_

_“Language.”_ Kun harshly cuts off his little flashback, his glaring eyes across the rearview in the general direction of the backseat. Specifically, on Jisung and his extremely rebellious black leather jacket, he’d bet. He might as well be blaming him now for being such a horrible influence to his sweet, innocent Chenle.

Chenle waves him off.

“ _Yes_ , I understand the circumstances but there’s always a peaceful way to resolve things. We don’t have to use violence to solve everything,” says Kun what every parent is obliged to say to their kids despite not being a parent himself. (He sounds like he’s enjoying his pseudo role though. He’s totally in character here and he meets every criterion on Jisung’s list of overprotective parent character.) Renjun rolls his eyes and Chenle predictably disregards the helpful piece of advice as he continues frowning down at his shirt as if it personally offended him. “Chenle, did you hear me?”

“Cut him some slack, _ge._ It’s not like something like this happens all the time,” Renjun interjects. “It’s Le’s first time getting himself in trouble. It’s healthy.”

“Healthy,” Kun deadpans.

“We’re teenagers. Getting in trouble is part of the job description.” Renjun waves his hand in a familiar way Jisung has seen a couple of times before. Chenle does that during their spontaneous arguments in the past. Did he get that from Renjun, or was it the other way around?

Kun grunts, apparently not pleased at the strong point presented before him. (Another check on the list.) “That’s why I’m here. Getting _you guys_ out of trouble is part of my job description.”

He launches into a flurry of Chinese sermons that both Renjun and Chenle continue to deliberately ignore. The rapid-fire inflection sounds pretty serious to the only Korean in the car and even despite his rebel nature and limited knowledge of the language, it makes him perk up in attention as opposed to the other two who merely respond with a monotonous _“Yes, ge”_ after. Kun looks satisfied by that, though Jisung doubts the sermon has done anything _real_ to the both of them.

Chenle subtly scoots closer to him across the seat and rubs his nose to hide his mouth. “I’m grounded so I can’t go out. I could tell him we have a project to finish so we can hang out in my place longer.”

Jisung quirks a brow. “Works for me.”

He turns to Kun and in a louder voice he says, “Ge, Jisung’s staying with me until dinner. We have some work to catch up to.”

Kun squints at him through the mirror. “But Jisung’s mom might be looking for him.”

“We’ll phone her.”

They fake a phone call with his mother in front of the chary Kun, which isn’t a hard feat to do since both Jisung and Chenle proved to be excellent weavers of shared lies, a habit formed over years of friendship. Whether or not Kun bought it, they don’t know since he slipped out of the house shortly after, saying he needs to do a quick grocery. Renjun loudly expresses his conjecture that Kun used that excuse in the guise to seek his boyfriend’s company, _some Ten guy_ , and winks at Jisung.

“Real responsible of him,” he adds before disappearing behind his bedroom door with a wooden tag hanging off it bearing a Chinese inscription and a small tagline of its translation in Korean, _“Do Not Disturb.”_

Jisung hasn’t known Renjun for long since the older Chinese just moved in from China a year ago but he decides he finds him cool with his silver hair and occasional bandana and silver piercings. Chenle thinks he’s cool too but usually expresses this in a more covert manner of admiration in his eyes, masked in nonchalance within proximity when they banter about trivial stuff along the way. Nothing too strong a cover-up to escape Jisung entirely. It causes him to regard the older Chinese similarly, but to a watered-down version because he still secretly finds the fact that he’s taller than him _very_ amusing.

(“You tower over almost _everyone.”_ Chenle tells him one time, mock-hate ringing in his tone and eyes. “I’d like to cut you down with an ax one of these days.”

Jisung laughs because it’s a cute thought.)

Chenle slips out to the laundry room for a bit and comes back with a fresh pallid green pullover a shade fainter than his hair, looking tremendously pleased with himself.

“Turns out we do have color-safe bleach. My shirt will live!”

Jisung sends his mom a text for real, saying it was alright she didn’t make it to the discipline office because of work and that everything is fine. He pockets the phone before Chenle sees him fiddling with it. They spend the next two hours in Chenle’s room, huddled in front of the PS4 playing _Spiderman_. Renjun barges in with popcorn he refuses to share and plops down Chenle’s bed, corn bouncing all over.

Chenle pretends not to see it. “Don’t you have uni?”

He shrugs. Renjun tosses a piece into the air and catches it in his mouth. Jisung grins fondly at him. Renjun catches it and manages to smirk before Jisung drops his smile and looks away.

“So Jisung,” Renjun drawls. “cool outfit.”

Jisung looks down unmindfully at his trunk. He’s wearing a black leather jacket over a v-neck white shirt and black tight-fitted pants he picked out today. Which is hardly any different from his usual getup. He pauses. “Was that supposed to be sarcastic?”

“Eh. You never know with him.” Chenle responds, veering to his left in front of the console. Jisung holds him steady.

“No, I mean it. It brings out the sharpness of your eyes.” Renjun chews carefully, tilting his head. “Adequately threatening. No wonder you attract guys like that.”

Threatening. Huh.

Jisung shrugs and tries not to shrink under the older’s scrutinizing look. Renjun had tagged along with Kun when he found out Chenle was sent to Discipline and had only glimpses of the entire thing. He must’ve worked out the rest of it. If that isn’t impressive...

He clears his throat, a little blush blooms from under his chin at Renjun’s attentive perk up, “I was an easy target when I was in middle school. I guess they haven’t gotten out of the habit yet.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t too. Being on the receiving end, at least,” Renjun responds, licking the butter off his fingers and looking so lax as if they’re not discussing something as serious as bullying. “This happens a lot?”

Chenle spares him a second-long glance before focusing on the screen. Jisung bites the insides of his cheek. He’s never really discussed this with anyone, not even Chenle who’s probably wondering the same thing. Not even with his parents as it dated way back in middle school when the problem first occurred. The act had been lowkey enough to stay under the radar and tame enough for Jisung to pass off the occasional bruises as playground blunders. Jisung didn’t tell because he couldn’t see the point in blowing things out of proportion. He’s seen the exact things happen to some of the students his age back in the time and they usually just stem to more problems than remedy it all together that he decided against his initial instinct of telling. He also half hoped Hoojung would grow out of this phase or that either of them will transfer to another school soon.

Luckily for Jisung, Hoojung did transfer due to some family complications and he moved up to a high school without Hoojung in it.

Until this year, that is, when the Big Bad Bully decided to wreck his life once more by barging in through the school gates, with a student ID around his neck and shoving him in the hallway to announce his great comeback. The second time around, he hasn’t any plans on telling because there’s still no reason to upset people around him. To his misfortune, Hoojung got worst and his memory of a scrawny middle school kid Jisung was as sharp as it was. 

Jisung doesn’t know how to deal with that, then one thing leads to another...

It doesn’t help that Renjun’s stares seem to squeeze the truth out of him with no pint of effort whatsoever, just by the power of his electrifying looks alone. Jisung resigns, his shoulders sagged. “Only when nobody else can see it.”

“For how long?” Renjun prods.

“Since... the start of the school year. After he transferred.”

Chenle exhales sharply, like an exasperated puff. Knuckles tense for a different reason now. “And you did not tell me?”

Jisung teethes his bottom lip shakily. “Thought I could handle it. I didn’t want to get you involved.”

For a while, Chenle doesn’t say anything but he looks at the screen like he’s staring right through it. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out Chenle is bothered by the fact and that he’s not sure how to handle it either. Keeping it to himself was Jisung’s choice and getting mad about it wouldn’t do either of them any good. Guilt slowly engulfs what seems to be Jisung’s entire digestive system as the silence grows between the three of them.

Renjun’s lips twitch. “It’s not too late to assert dominance. Some sort of resistance might just ward them off.”

_“Assert dominance”. Where’d he even learn that phrase?_

“I already did that for him,” Chenle says, frowning now.

“But you won’t be around all the time,” Renjun retaliates then says something in Chinese. Chenle cuts him off with his brand of aggressive retort and they fall into a rally of arguments that reminds Jisung of a verbal, more complicated, and unintelligible table tennis.

It ends with Renjun looking curiously at Jisung in a new light as if there’s something about what Chenle said that fascinated him. The younger Chinese huffs indignantly once again, his game now abandoned because of his intense investment in winning the discourse.

“You guys know that it’s rude to converse in another language when the other person in the room doesn’t know it, right?” Jisung asks.

It prompts a spreading smile across Renjun’s lips for reasons Jisung isn’t sure of. “Ohhh. Isn’t he a precious cinnamon roll?”

Jisung frowns. “Who?”

“Ah, there’s loads of other things you don’t know of, Jisung.”

The younger’s frown deepens. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Renjun, get out!”

Renjun prances out of the room in glee, taking the popcorn bowl with him and leaving behind a very confused Jisung and a reddening Chenle.

“What was that all about?”

“Eh.” Chenle shrugs, clearing his throat and trying not to fumble at his controls. “Who knows with him?”

> **he who dared.**

“The most hilarious thing about this year’s Halloween,” Chenle says, giggling as he grabs a witch’s hat off a mannequin’s head and put it on his own. “is the fact that Renjun is going as Smurfette to the Hallow’s Ball.”

Jisung allows him a few minutes of hearty laughter, smiling apologetically at fellow shoppers looking at them with expressions ranging from irritation to question and lots of others in between. Then, it finally sinks in. “Wait, _Smurfette?”_

“I _know._ It’s a dare with someone named Jeno from his university. I’d have to thank that guy for making my dreams come true. Now,” Chenle turns to him, tipping the witch hat to Jisung. “let’s go down Hallow Aisle and see what kind of wonders it offers us this year.”

The “Hallow Aisle” is buzzing with shoppers of all ages. Most of them are children, riddled with the occasional high schoolers sauntering about and ogling at the various Halloween costume displays that generously range from zombie’s tattered getups to fairy wings and wands and everything in between imaginable. This place takes Halloween seriously. Their schools allow the classic Trick or Treat gag on Hallow’s Eve as part of the annual tradition in hopes to boost the spirit of unity among the mass or whatever it is they’re trying to achieve. Most of them think they’re just trying to appeal to the student body to placate extreme student behavior. It’s not a bad tactic, going by how the administration has been earning extra brownie points from the students around the same time every year. The _only_ time of the year. The scheme is so thinly veiled that it’s almost ridiculous and comical to watch the administration dig their own grave, for the lack of better and more accurate terms.

And as a huge bonus, there’s the annual Hallow’s Ball at their school, the most celebrated event all year where you get to dress however you want as long as it’s appropriate within campus premises and get _actual_ and free brownies by the best baker in town. What’s not to love about Halloween?

“This Aisle is such a dream.” A voice declares somewhere at their back, Donghyuck suddenly materializing after a quick trip to the prop’s section and now waltzing over, holding a Spock mask. “We get to be anyone we want to be.”

“Donghyuck’s going as Sabrina the Witch,” Jisung reveals, skimming through racks of tattered Frankenstein collection.

Donghyuck scoffs at him, holding up the mask. “I’m going as the Hulk, tatters and all.”

“That’s hardly appropriate, isn’t it?” Jaemin stops next to him in front of the Adventure Time collection, squinting at the cardboard image of Princess Bubblegum with a sword. “Isn’t she the lesbian queen of Adventure Land? It _is_ Adventure Land, right? Since the show is called Adventure Time?”

Jisung puffs out raw laughter and Donghyuck laughs with him, cooing at Jaemin like one would at a baby who just did something amusing or disgusting. “I love you for being so adorable. You want to give this outfit a try?”

Jaemin crinkles his nose, weighing out his options and probably painting a mental image of himself wearing it. “I wouldn’t mind but the skirt is too long. Not ideal for a crazy Halloween Ball.”

“How about those pink trousers then?”

Halloween Shopping with Jaemin and his boyfriend Donghyuck tagging along on itself is not that bad. It’s the fact that every year he’s being haunted by the biggest dilemma of which iconic supernatural or fictional character he’s going to dress up as and whose costume is within his very limited budget. Last year, he went as a zombie after scavenging for some rags in his basement and putting on face paint and foundation, posed as realistic as possible a powder can manage courtesy of Chenle’s outstanding makeup skills. If he’s left this year without any better options, he’s leaning toward the mummy option with only a roll of toilet paper and glue to piece it together. It’s still a costume if done right.

“You could go as the Slender Man, Jisungie,” Chenle suggests when he tears his eyes off the couple, now closely inspecting a row of Paddington onesies. “You have the limbs for the job.”

 _Jisungie_. Honestly, he’s feeling fine before that word. Jisung swallows thickly and gathers the remains of his now-broken breezy front.

“Great. Hiding and stalking. My dream jobs.” Jisung puts up a dry smile. Going as the Slender Man is a doable option, yet the possible execution is planting doubt all over his brain at its early conception stage. He’s not sure if he wants to be a creepy stalker at the ball despite being sure it’s not gonna be the weirdest costume around. He hums. “I just kinda want to carry around a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire in a leather jacket.”

“Or you could go as a superhero? You look like a Spiderman.”

Jisung scrunches his nose. Ah, yes. The classic Spiderman option favored mostly by elementary kids. And Mark. Mark likes to dress up as Spiderman a lot. He swore his wallet curled in on itself when he had a glimpse of the price tag when he took a peek a few moments ago. “The Marvel lineup cost is through the roof thanks to _Endgame._ Nope."

“Peter Pan?”

“Sold out,” Jisung says, eyeing the Coraline section with fascination. “He’s surprisingly popular among the kids.”

Chenle points at the nearby rack. “Paddington?”

“A little bit more dignified please.”

“What, it’s cute!” Chenle laughs, then hum meditatively. “It’d be fun if we wear costumes that no one would expect from us. Like, me going as Pennywise for example.”

“ _Pennywise?”_ Jisung tries to laugh at the idea but looks at Chenle the same way he would look at the damned clown from his nightmares. In his mind, an image flashed of him wearing a red wig and red streaks over thick white foundation, holding a red balloon. Laughing diabolically. _Dancing and partying_ diabolically. Doing the diabolical Pennywise dance. Then, his laugh dies down in his throat because now that he has a clear picture, it’s _far_ from funny. Jisung swallows involuntarily. “Please don’t go as Pennywise.”

It’s Chenle’s turn to laugh this time, eyes disappearing and cheeks crinkling adorably. “Why not? No one would expect that.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want nightmares.” Jisung shakes his head. “Let’s keep things simple.”

“Fair enough. You know what,” Chenle replies, still looking amused. “what about you dress like me?”

“Like you?”

“Yeah. No one would expect that from you.” Chenle gestures at his current pastel sweater and shorts get-up and something tells Jisung this is Chenle’s meeker attempts at his whole pastel aesthetic. Weak but it still works because everything works on Chenle. “I dare you to dress like me. I always wanted to see you wear pink.”

Jisung stops to look thoughtful, eyes skidding over Chenle’s stature freely with an excuse before grinning. That doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all. Well, it’s not a very Halloween-y type of costume but it hardly matters anyway. Not including the fact that he doesn’t exactly have that selection of clothes in his wardrobe, he thinks he’s not gonna have any problems pulling off that kind of look if he has to. Also, he _never_ backs down from a dare. “Okay. But in one condition.”

“What?”

“You’re gonna dress like me in return.” Jisung grins. “We can just go as each other with little props. People will get it if we stick together.”

Chenle nods and nods again, probably already painting pictures of them wearing each other’s signature clothing style and a grin takes over his lips, looking pleased. “This is even lazier than your previous Negan costume idea.”

“Oh! But you can bring a bat with you!” Jisung suggests excitedly. “We can just draw those wires on and stuff. I can help you!”

Chenle shakes his head. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

Jisung shrugs, guilty as charged, and slides over the sleek department store floor. “Of course I do, I love Negan!”

> **he who wouldn’t.**

There is a three total number of times Jisung had pathetically zoned out staring at Chenle’s outfit at the Hallow’s Ball. Well, at _Chenle._ (When he’s baffled, he becomes hyper self-aware.) But in his defense, the attention is warranted considering everybody else in their class is just as freaked out as he is the moment they see Chenle walk into the gym dressed in Jisung’s favorite trucker jacket and strap pants, swinging away his prop bat laced with the makeshift barbed wire Jisung personally crafted just for the occasion.

It’s a good thing everybody’s eyes are on Chenle and they couldn’t see Jisung’s stupid face and his even more stupid jaw drop.

“Oh my God, Chenle is wearing eyeliner!” squeals a girl from their class and single-handedly veers the entire conversation off to. It admittedly deserves the fuss given that it’s the first time anyone has seen Chenle wear _this_ and that he’s _killing the entire getup_ almost so flawlessly that nobody dared to question what he went to the party as.

It is more than what can be said about Jisung who is still constantly taking offhanded crap for going as “an overgrown elementary schoolboy looking for his parents” ever since he walked in early that evening with a puffy, light green sweater, pink shorts and a brown _beret._ Topped off with a scarf around his neck.

For the record, he had always known pastel colors are not his thing.

“Hey, you look great!” Chenle gushes when the barricade of fussy girls around him finally dissipates, blonde hair dripping down his brow just touching the tips of eyelashes and wearing the shiniest smile ever to grace upon Jisung’s puny existence. “Ooh! Orange hair. Nice touch.”

Jisung unmindfully twirls an orange lock and mentally high-fives himself for the brilliance of his last-minute call to cheap dye his hair orange. He tugs down the too-short sweater he’s wearing. “Thanks. You look... good.”

No, that doesn’t cut it. Not even nearly. He looks, as _Donghyuck would say, “Fine as fuck.”_

“Thanks!” Chenle chirps, eyes scanning the party. “I feel like Negan. Help me find a zombie later so I can take a selfie of both of us.”

“Sure.”

Two of his classmates, one of them wearing a lion's mane and the other a hyena head, coo at Jisung as they go. Jisung laughs along sarcastically for a second before dropping it. “No, _you_ look adorable.” He mutters under his breath.

“Don’t mind them you look great.” Chenle bumps his shoulder, grinning and eyes disappearing. He leans closer to Jisung, voice breathy against his ear. “Look at you! My cotton candy boy.”

Now, that's a compliment. See, he’s also feeling fine before that. He can take the coos and the teases sent his way. What he couldn’t take was the fond tone of Chenle’s whisper that could be easily mistaken as something else. As something more than just a friendly exclamation. He could forget everything but the warm giddy feeling transpiring that.

A pro from that gesture is that his mind is finally off his inability to pull off a cute outfit. The con is now _that_ will haunt him in his daydreams and honestly, the latter sounds way worse than having to deal with his classmates. The fact that Chenle continues to rock the outfit for the rest of the night is not helping his case. Neither is Michael Jackson-Donghyuck who magically appears next to him in his little pathetic corner of the gym, interrupting his peaceful drowning in Coke with a sly grin plastered in his face. “I called Chenle your lesbian goth girlfriend. Do you know what he said?”

“That he’s not a lesbian?” Jisung tries miserably.

“No.” Donghyuck’s diabolical grin that’s scarier than Pennywise’s widens. “That it’s true but only for tonight because it’s your role initially.”

Jisung frowns. “What?”

Donghyuck chuckles and soothes the twirling locks decorating his face daintily under the MJ hat. “He indirectly called you his lesbian goth girlfriend.”

“ _What does that even mean?”_

“You’re the lesbian goth girlfriend. What else?” Donghyuck wiggles his brows and moonwalks back into the dance floor.

See, Jisung is also feeling fine before that vague comment. Thanks to that, he finds it easier than ever to put more meaning on a few factors of his relationship with Chenle now that he’s alone in his corner, left with his thoughts and plagued by the desire to keep his eyes on Chenle who’s having fun taking pictures and laughing with his other friends. It’s hard to hold those thoughts back now, and he finds himself thumbing the cottony material of Chenle’s turtleneck, secretly wishing it wasn’t his perfume coating it but... _whoa there, Buzzboy._ Now, he’s just fantastically confused and in desperate need to pee.

Jisung scans the horror land that is the popping dance floor in front of him in search of the familiar trucker jacket and patch of beautiful blonde hair that he lost in the crowd. He gives up after a minute, chugging down the remains of his Coke before settling it on the nearby table.

He’s about to step out when he feels a hard object bash against the back of his head followed by a couple of girls shrieking and the room around him spins for a whole second before his vision dims completely, his body falling limp on the sticky floor.

> **he who had enough.**

Jisung had a surprisingly organized list of things he doesn’t want to wake up to. First, he doesn’t want to wake up to a smiling Pennywise at his side, or any other sociopathic killer, monster, or entity that has been haunting him ever since he’s very young. Nobody wants those scenarios to be their morning awakening and that’s a _very_ valid fear to have, on top of the fear of heights and finding out you forgot to ask your parent for some lunch money and now you’re stuck out there in the world without monetary provisions.

Another valid fear of Jisung’s is waking up to his mom crying at his side with a machine beeping next to him, which is how he wakes up that one time, a warm hand wrapped around his. The screeching light burns his heavy eyes, his body limp and head grave against the pillow. His mom next to him smiles despite the unmistakable wet trail of tears down her cheeks, gripping his hand tighter when she catches his moving eyes. “Hello, sweetie. How are you feeling?”

 _Mom._ Well. That’s new.

Jisung croaks out a soft _Where am I?_ his throat dry.

“In the hospital, sweetie. You’re alright now.”

Head. Feels very heavy and tight. Hospital. Mom. Crying. _What?_

“You’re alright now, Jisung-ah.” His mom leans over to kiss his forehead. Wet tears dot his forehead. “You’re okay now. Your dad is gonna be here soon.”

That’s another something new. They’re rarely ever in the same room recently. Whatever’s keeping Jisung in the hospital must be something perilous enough to keep his parents together. If it had something to do with his spinning vision and heavy head, he might as well have it all the time if this is how they behave.

Jisung passes out the second time that night and wakes up after what seems like hours, to a different person sitting by his side. He’s not entirely sure who, his blurry eyes making it hard to make sure, but it’s a guy with a blonde hair and despite himself, he could feel his chest jump at the notion of his identity.

“Jisung-ah, are you okay?” His mom’s voice cuts through the monotonous beeping in the air, soft.

He opens his mouth and closes it, surprised by how difficult it is to get a sound out and opts for a slight nod before regretting it immediately.

“It’s okay. Don’t move your head.”

It takes him another try to get his throat working, and it pushes out a groan. When his tired eyes finally got adjusted to the lighting, he sees Chenle at his side, nibbling his bottom lip. He isn’t alone though. The pink-haired guy on the other side of the room shuffles over with a grin.

“Hey there, sport.” Jaemin greets him.

“Chenle and Jaemin are here to visit you.” His mom grabs her purse from the seat on the other side. “Boys, can I leave him to you for a bit? I need to grab some lunch.”

“Sure, Mrs. Park.”

His mom looks at him, weary but smiling. “Sung-ah. I’ll be back.”

Jisung had been conscious enough to keep in track of all the new things that are happening in front of him. His mom, keeping her promise of coming back with lunch. His mom, eating lunch with the three of them without cutting it halfway to run off to some other business that’s usually much more important than a meal with her son. His mom, floating off to a corner of the room, on the phone with his dad. He had tried to ask Chenle to pinch him on the arm or slap his face just to make sure he wasn’t living a distant childhood dream but couldn’t manage to hold a syllable without wanting to crack his head open to get the pain over with for good. Chenle insisted on staying for a couple more hours after they’ve eaten their lunch. In that duration, Jisung had tried to speak a couple of times before finally managing to in a soft voice. When he tried to go a bit louder, his brain vibrates like a tuning fork and the repercussions, he finds the hard way, are dreadful to put up with. Despite his efforts, his visitors’ presence didn’t propel him to speak at all. Chenle didn’t even speak that much himself, except whenever Jisung’s mom regards to him and whenever he attempts to soothe Jisung into sleeping naps and eating food.

The entire time, Jaemin and Chenle were wearing their “Everything’s gonna be okay” smiles and Jisung felt like everyone is trying too hard to get him not to worry about anything.

His doctor dropped by a couple of times to monitor his condition and talk to his mother in a reassuring hushed voice every doctor seems to have. Now and then, she would smile at Jisung and when she finally sauntered over to his side, she told him the verbal equivalent of her smiles, “You’re all good now! No need to worry. Just a mild concussion”. Jisung took it that she meant whatever happened to his thickly-bandaged head was something that was long past danger. His mom recounted it to him after the doctor and the two boys left the room.

“You’ve been hit in the head by a glass.” His mom said softly, yet it sounds to him like the calm before the storm. “Remember Hoojung?”

Jisung wished he didn’t. He wondered if he can quickly pull the amnesia card off to steer him away from the impending conversation with his mom and pretend he didn’t know an ounce about Big Bad Hoojung. He wished he could pretend that his memories have specific chunks missing of Hoojung’s bullying ever since middle school.

To Jisung’s sour dismay, it stubbornly remained a wish. He forced himself through the conversation he’s been dreading forever, admitting that there was no other way around it than to face it head-on today. To nobody’s surprise, his mom wasn’t happy, and Jisung wouldn’t be as well if his son had to go through the same thing without him knowing. (It was an odd choice to make one’s point get across but it works. Jisung gets the general idea of keeping things from his parents is usually not a good idea. Even if his relationship with them wasn’t exactly smooth these past months.) His dad walked in on them carrying dinner, and he was pretty sure he got teary-eyed when he crushed him in his arms, whispering assurances to him and making him feel like a child again. Safe and trusting, yet again.

The following day, Jisung’s head becomes mercifully light and far better than yesterday that he can finally sit up. A steady stream of visitors shuffles in and out of Jisung’s ward with thoughts and wishes of getting better soon, along with his classmates and teachers from school. Chenle and Renjun also drop by with a basket of apples and a considerable amount of outside energy to shed some in Jisung’s stagnant hospital room that their visit effectively lights it up. Or maybe it is caused by Chenle’s unusually perky demeanor, rubbing off the entire place and lighting it up to a degree that no bouquets nor Get Well Soon card ever can.

It starts when Chenle laughed over something Renjun said, and suddenly being glued to the hospital bed never felt better.

They keep Jisung company for another hour before Renjun exits the room to fetch them drinks, leaving Chenle on the seat next to him, twiddling his thumbs.

“Did your mom already tell you about what happened?” Chenle asks after the silence got too heavy to stomach. His trembling tone suggests nervousness but for what? Why would he be nervous? It’s just them. When was Chenle ever nervous around him?

“Yeah. She did.”

There’s a pause. Chenle looks up at him. “But she didn’t go into detail about what happened that night.”

Jisung frowns. “Did something more happen?”

Chenle sucks in a nervous breath and lets it out heavily. “Hoojung hit you with a glass and you passed out. You got a concussion from that.”

Jisung nods slowly. “Yeah. I know that much.”

“I stopped Hoojung.”

A pause. Then, Jisung nods. “Okay...”

“He never would’ve stopped beating you up.” Chenle protests, throat bobbing up and down and eyes anywhere but on Jisung’s. “I felt like I should let you know.”

“ _Wait.”_ Jisung pauses. “How?”

Chenle’s eyes shift meaningfully.

“Oh no.” Jisung curls his hands then whispers. “You beat him up? Wait. You didn’t hit him with a bat, did you?”

“I don’t need a bat to hit him hard.” Chenle deadpans.

“ _No.”_ Jisung gapes. “You shouldn’t have.”

“He’s not dead if that’s what you’re worried about,” Chenle says.

Jisung shakes his head and sighs. For the longest time, they allow the silence to settle between them, a long contemplative moment of what best to say next without damaging the other unintentionally. Jisung doesn’t even dare lift his head and lets the rhythmic beeping of the machine next to him settle freely in the air.

Chenle breaks the cold, hard tension with a feeble, “I’m sorry.”

Jisung looks up. “For what?”

“For not being sorry.” Chenle answers, unblinking. “He could’ve done worse to you.”

“Someone else could’ve stopped it.”

“That’s what I did. I did what I did to help you.” Chenle shakes his head. “He got sent to juvie for that.”

Jisung takes the time to sink back to his pillows, chest pushed back and tries to process everything. He can only imagine his body limp on the floor and nearby, chaos breaks as Chenle pins down a screaming Hoojung, trying to shield himself as blows come and go.

He shakes his head. Then regrets it instantly, pain spreading through his skull and feeling like it’s trying to pick it apart.

This time around, they did nothing to occupy themselves nor break the silence that has coated them for ten minutes. They sit there side by side, gazes fixed on the white wall opposite to them.

“Hoojung doesn’t have his parents with him anymore,” Jisung said.

When Chenle doesn’t say anything, he reveals how he knew Hoojung had a father who physically abused him and got tangled in a drug bust. He reveals how he knew it was rough for him, and how he felt bad. He reveals how scary it was to gaze into the eyes of someone who’s taking out all his hate on the world to him, and how he feels heavy through absorption after looking at something so broken and miserable.

“Oh.” Chenle silently says, after a while. “So that’s why you wouldn’t throw the punch.”

Jisung shakes his head. “I wouldn’t. Not to anyone.”

“It doesn’t justify him lashing out on you like that.”

Jisung knows. But at the same time, Jisung doesn’t want to dig deeper into it. It’s not his business, despite being dragged into Hoojung’s misery. He was just collateral damage. It’s not okay, but the authorities will do the rest. He couldn’t take the matter into his own hands.

“Jisungie,” Chenle reaches out for his hand and looks at him in the eyes for the first time that day. Another pause, just their eyes speaking, then he says, “One punch. It was just one punch.”

Jisung feels like floating after that, like a heavy anchor that had lodged inside his chest for the last hour has finally drifted off.

Chenle got suspended for the act at the Hallow’s Ball, (“You got _what?”_ ) but he seems cheerful about it, talking about it like it’s a small price to pay for his action. Jisung thinks it’s ridiculously a lot, and that it’s _just one punch so why_ . Chenle laughs and shrugs it off like it’s no big deal and tells Jisung that he should just focus on recovering and _stop thinking about it. Come on, eat your apple._ Jisung will probably continue to think about it for a long time.

“Thank you.”

Chenle looks up from the apple he’s peeling, eyes wide. Jisung thinks that’s another thing he doesn’t want to forget at all. The afternoon glow flowing through window and bathing Chenle with it. The beige jacket and the outgrown, green-streaked blonde hair. “Hmm?”

“Thank you for looking after me.” Jisung smiles.

Chenle smiles back.

> **he who wanted more.**

“If college isn’t gonna kill us _now,_ not yet,” Chenle declares with all the certainty in the world. “college entrance exams will.”

Said certainty has been heavily tainted with the cruel effects of caffeine. There’s no telling how much he is running on for this week, and he’s about to ingest more than two cups the more they stay at this café. Why would they even choose a café to study at?

Chenle bathes in the early afternoon gold, painting his blonde hair a heavenly glow that’s almost as magical as any of Jisung’s daydreams about this exact moment. Well, save for the bitter chagrin he sports over heaps of learning materials and an insane amount of cups of coffee at the side, but even so, it takes Jisung a lot of work not to drop his agenda at studying altogether just to _stare._ To prevent himself from being tempted, he keeps his head down, almost close enough to sniff the pages’ faint earthy smell and keeps it that way until his neck gets too strained from it.

It works for a given short while, but then he still has to look up and suffer the consequences and go through the same cycle of wanting to stare and it repeats, his neck screaming for mercy.

Studying for college exams has never felt this frustrating. _Still._ It’s at least better than being stuck at home like he is for the past few months.

Chenle, on the other hand, is bothered by an entirely different reason.

“We should take a break,” he suggests, letting his head fall over the back of his chair, groaning. “Like really. We’ve been at it for almost five hours I can feel my butt losing feeling. I’m losing my butt.”

Jisung laughs at that. “My butt lost all sorts of feelings a long time ago.”

Chenle rights himself up, lips curled up. “Sad day for butts.”

They snicker over the childish jokes they pass on between each other and decide it’s about time to get up and get some fresh air outside before they both finally lose it. They leave their things to the barista, also Jisung’s cousin Jaemin, who’s the reason why they’re both in here in the first place enjoying their complimentary studying caffeine while they work and took them with an assuring smile.

It’s a fairly appropriate time for a quick stroll at the park, given that it’s an early afternoon of autumn and the bite of the winds aren’t snippy to the thinly dressed duo. This time, Chenle didn’t opt for an eager beaver for winter and settled with simple denim overalls and baby blue shirt underneath. It looked cute on him, especially with his bangs fluffed like that. He laughed at Jisung’s attempt to soften his look by going for a black vest and a white shirt but he can tell from the soft looks Chenle passed at him, he’s only humoring him when he told him, “You look cute.”

Jisung blushed reliably. It wasn’t even a date or anything to fuss over what to dress but he has been in his drabbest state for the past week pouring over review notes and books that when Chenle called in for a study session at the café earlier that morning, he let his instinct take over his muscles and went with what they told him to do. Dress casually nice. Casual but still nice. Mostly nice. He may or may not have gone for the cute look, who knows. Took him an hour to get his hair done. But that’s not important. _Why is he even thinking about this?_

That ten-minute walk is the most sunlight Jisung has felt on his skin for that week and his eyes are grateful to see anything other than words and radiation off his laptop and phone.

Chenle shares the same enthusiasm, tugging Jisung along to ice cream parlors and feasting on street food they pass along for an hour, bobbing with the energy he didn’t know he still possessed after a dreary work behind the table until they decide to rest their legs at the nearby park and sit under the trees.

From then on, they talk about casual things, which is something Jisung is good at and thankful for, because _finally,_ no talks about equations.

“Renjun’s going back to China in a few days.”

Jisung pries his eyes off a kid swinging from afar. “What? Why?”

“His parents asked him to come back home. They missed him.”

Jisung purses his lips. “For good?”

“Yeah. Who knows? They can be like that. He’s an only child. I’m worried about my parents getting ideas. Kun graduates next year, too. No one to look after me.”

Panic rises to Jisung’s throat. “Wait. They won’t ask you to come home right?”

It takes Chenle awhile to answer. “They might. I hope they don’t get any ideas.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit.”

They look at each other at the same time, then look away at the same time.

Jisung clears his throat.

“If by any chance, they ask me to come home. Would you miss me?”

“Hyung. What kind of question is that?”

“Just curious.”

“Of course I will.”

“Would you try to stop me?”

Jisung falls silent.

Chenle sighs. “It gets lonely back there. I have friends. But it won’t be the same.”

Nobody worries about Chenle not making any friends. He has lots. He’s good at making them. “You have lots of friends.”

“You won’t be there.”

Jisung falls silent. “I’d miss you. But you’re not going anywhere... right?”

“Nah.”

They go back to the café to fetch their things and to tip Jaemin, then go to Jisung’s house. Before Jisung could open the door, Chenle reaches out and holds his arm, twirls him around. “Can I... Can I kiss your cheek?”

Jisung stands there dazed, eyes blinking rapidly, tongue-tied, maybe looking so shocked and so pathetic at the same time and can’t help himself. Chenle looks at him with shifty, shy eyes, red splashed across his face. They’re still far too close to each other for far too long that Jisung can count every breath Chenle takes, every quiver of his lips, possibly every thought that passes through his mind... no, did he regret that? He couldn’t tell. Chenle’s just so red now, that...

Chenle steps back and clears his throat. Looking away. “Just... you know. In case my parents call me back to China and... Um...”

“Oh.” Jisung blinks. Nods. Blinks and nods. “Okay, okay.”

“Should um... I should get going.”

“Don’t you wanna... get inside first?”

Chenle is still so red. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

There are only a few things that are clear to Jisung at the moment. Chenle wanted to kiss his cheek for a long time is one of them. Chenle might be going to China soon. Chenle looks way cuter blushing. Chenle... would like to kiss his cheek.

They settle on the couch when they got inside, the TV blares in front of them courtesy of Chenle and a bowl of leftover popcorn from where Jisung left it on the coffee table earlier that morning sitting quietly. Chenle is hugging his knees on the other side of the couch and Jisung naturally takes the opposite side, his fingers drumming on his knees like a pathetic little kid... _No,_ he couldn’t be pathetic for long. Not _now,_ anyway, so out of impulse, he says, “Um, you can kiss me now.”

He means it though. He doesn’t dare look at Chenle but he could feel the couch shift, and weight plants beside him and then, Chenle does kiss him. It’s soft and sudden and short but it reduces Jisung into a puddle of warm, warm goo on the floor, _it’s pathetic._ At the same time, it’s not, and he can hear Chenle chuckling beside him. “I’ve always wanted to do that. Thank you.”

Chenle crawls back to his side of the couch and lets Jisung be pathetic and red and so, so, _warm,_ on his own. When Jisung gets over the first wave of shock (and the second, and the one after that), he dares shift his head to Chenle’s general direction and clears his throat. “Can I... Can I kiss you too?”

Chenle probably thought he looks so _pathetic._ Chenle probably thought he looks like a ridiculous tomato, or a time fucking bomb waiting to—

Chenle cuts his thoughts off with a soft laugh. “Yeah. Sure.”

(“I still can’t get used to seeing you wear those...” Jaemin gestures at the pink pullover he’s wearing, with the _Sweetest Bitch_ print in fancy script across the fabric. “colorful stuff on you. It’s like looking at you like a child again. Looks weird.”

Jisung looks down at his fluffy outfit. Looks fine to him. “It’s Chenle’s.”

“Yes, cousin, I know. I’ll try to get used to this wardrobe change of yours now since...” Jaemin gives him a suggestive look but he’s always weird like that over no reason at all. What’s wrong with wearing Chenle’s pullover and sharing clothes with him? Before Donghyuck and Jaemin got together, they used to do this all the time - _oh._

Jisung flushes bright red, despite himself and Jaemin topples over on his bed, laughing and kicking his feet in the air. “You’re _so cute, Jisungie._ You’re the cutest!”

“S-Shut up!”

“Yeah, don’t worry I’ll get used to it.”)


End file.
